Mister Happy and the Dragon
by RainbowCookie318
Summary: Harry is depressed after winning the war. Draco wants him to stop being dull and go back to being the bantering enemy on which Draco has come to rely. But Harry has a secret. SLASH. HarryDraco. Review, please! Complete.
1. Mister Happy and the Dragon

**A/N: I decided to try to write a serious piece again. What better than Draco/Harry? The title is subject to change because I am horrible at titles.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the setting, just the plot and thoughts and feelings of Draco and Harry. This disclaimer applies to all chapters. _

**Mister Happy and the Dragon **

Draco Malfoy walked towards the Great Hall from the dungeons. As always, his back was perfectly straight, his chin up, his demeanor cold. His clothes were in perfect order and his wand was tucked conveniently up his sleeve. Crabbe and Goyle walked on either side of him, hulking shadows.

He was coming from Potions. He had failed, again, to out-brew Granger in class, and he was incensed about it to no end. He knew he was a close second in the NEWT class, but he should have been number one.

The Great Hall was filled with dining students. Draco looked at them in disdain, stuffing their faces in such an undignified way. He sat at his favorite place at the Slytherin table, about halfway down, on the side where he could watch the other tables.

He filled his plate with his customary lunch; he was on a strict diet, though he would be mortified should anyone find out. How else would he be able to keep his slim and elegant figure?

He watched other students as he ate, mostly Gryffindors. Neville Longbottom was fiddling with his food and casting frequent glances towards the Ravenclaw table. Loony Lovegood sat there immersed in that ridiculous Quibbler magazine.

Granger sat a little way down the table from Weasley and Potter. Apparently they were having another little tiff, judging by Weasley's red eyes and glares down the table. Potter's back was to Draco.

Potter stood up, bidding goodbye to his friend. Draco saw a golden opportunity to torment him a bit. He stood up. Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere near finishing lunch, so Draco left them there.

He followed Potter out and hailed him with a sharp, "Hey, scarhead."

Potter turned about, his eyes innocent behind broken glasses. "What, Malfoy?" His voice was oddly dull.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Going to find that half-breed friend of yours?"

"No," Potter said. Something was wrong. Why wasn't Potter retaliating to Draco's insults? They _always_ bantered. It was something Draco had come to rely on.

"Oh. Well, where are you off to, then?" Draco sneered to add disdain to his words.

"Just to study. NEWTS, y'know." Potter turned to leave and Draco knew his own features were twisted into a look of blatant confusion. Potter was halfway down the corridor. Draco strode after him.

"Potter."

"What?" Potter turned about to look at him again, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"What's—Did one of your mudblood friends hex you or something? You seem... duller than usual." Draco tried to insult Potter, but the other boy smiled.

"Concerned for me, Dragon?" he whispered, stepping closer. Draco narrowed his eyes. Potter was not smirking or brandishing his wand. He was smiling as if—he was happy that Draco was insulting him. What was going on here?

"Don't you dare call me that," Draco hissed once he realized what Potter had said. He would never tell his rival, but the only person he permitted to call him that was his father. Since his father was long dead, Draco had vowed that he would never tolerate that name from another person. Especially not Potter himself.

"Alright," Potter said. He turned around and left, walking through a hidden door and out of Draco's sight. Draco stood there for long moments before heading upstairs for his next class.

Harry was happy, happier than he had been in a long time. Malfoy, of all people, was concerned for him. Ron and Hermione were too wrapped up in themselves to notice his plight, and Dumbledore was dead, along with Sirius. Remus never inquired into his feelings, and Harry had no one else close to him.

Ever since that summer, the end of the war, Harry had been plagued. Plagued with the people he had killed to get to Voldemort to cast that final spell, and with the memory of that last confrontation. Everyone assumed that Harry was ecstatic to have killed Voldemort, and he was, but Harry was not happy for the families harmed during the war and that last battle. He was not happy that he had murdered people, many of them under the Imperius curse, to get to his enemy. He put up a false pretense of the savior of the world, Mister Happy.

Harry had thought at least Ron and Hermione would be concerned. It was difficult to hide his feelings from them, but they were together now, and he was the third wheel.

Harry really did need to study. After he left Malfoy, that's what he did. He spent the rest of the lunch hour working on his potions and then left for DADA.

During class, Harry wasn't surprised that his thoughts drifted to Malfoy. Ever since the time he had seen Draco lowering his wand from Dumbledore the night the headmaster had died, Harry had been filled with a mixture of pity and respect for his rival. They were still enemies on principle, but once he and Snape returned to help the Order of the Phoenix in the final battle, they had been on the same side.

Harry's line of thought turned to Snape. He hated him, more than anyone or anything, but he at least understood now. Snape had told them that only under Dumbledore's orders had Snape killed him, to keep up his pretext of being a Death Eater. Harry wouldn't have believed it had Snape not given him a sealed letter from Dumbledore explaining, along with one of Fawkes' feathers as proof of who it truly was from. Now Harry knew Snape (who had gone back to teaching potions) was truly on their side, despite there never being any proof for Dumbledore's trust in him.

DADA ended all too soon, and Remus, who was the teaching DADA again, asked Harry to stay after class.

"Is something the matter?" Harry asked once the rest of his peers had left.

"You seem distracted, Harry," Remus said. "I've noticed it for a while now... What is wrong?"

Harry felt warmth spread through his chest. He had thought that Remus hadn't noticed, or cared, about him. He had thought that, after losing Tonks, Remus would be too immersed in his own grief to care about Harry.

"Remus, I just... Ever since the war, I've not been well." Harry found it a little bit difficult to articulate his feelings. Growing up with the Dursleys, he had never been asked about his thoughts or feelings, so being asked so now was odd.

"I understand, Harry," Remus said. "You had it the hardest of anyone, of course. I was there with you, and I know what you... What happened."

Remus was going to say "I know what you did." Harry knew it. Just like that, the warmth was gone, at least until Remus walked around his desk and abruptly enveloped Harry in a hug. Harry hugged him back.

"Whenever you need to talk, come to me, any time," Remus said.

"Same here," Harry said. He knew, however, though he didn't understand how, that neither of them would take the other up on the offer.

Draco was thinking of Potter incessantly. Oh, Potter was often present in his thoughts, as an object of scorn, but the rest of that day and night, Draco was wondering why exactly Potter was so depressed. Hadn't he gotten what he wanted that summer? He had killed the Dark Lord, and, in the process, caused the death of almost everyone Draco cared about: his mother, his father, his father's friends who had been like family.

Draco _hated_ Harry Potter—but he couldn't stop thinking about him.

**A/N: There you go: Harry and Draco are thinking of each other. It's a start. It'll get better. Reviews would help it get better faster. **


	2. Pudding

**A/N: Thanks to Sima and MikoGoddess for reviewing! I didn't know there was a Slasher's Guild... Wow. A note on last chapter: My breaks between the POVs didn't show up. Hmm, wonder why? I'll try something new here. Anyway, I also wanted to say that this is my first H/D fic ****and**** my first published slash fic, so the plot might be a little... Eh. Please excuse any out-of-characterness, especially from Harry. Oh, and if wanking offends you, don't read this.**

**Pudding**

Potter was watching him. It was incessant and distracting and _annoying_. Draco irritably threw one too many doxie wings in his potion, and panicked when it began to boil over. Rifling through his book, he found the proper solution.

Snape prowled over just to see him fix the potion. "Ten points to Slytherin for properly fixing that potion and not bothering me about it." He sniffed at Draco's cauldron a bit and moved on.

Draco took his opportunity to smirk smugly across the room at Granger. She scowled at him, her ladle not stopping as she smoothly stirred. Just then Potter turned about and looked at him. Was he _smiling_? Bloody hell, he was. Draco looked down quickly, scowling. Was there something wrong with his smirk? Did he have something amusing in his teeth?

Needless to say, Draco didn't look up from his potion again.

-----------

Harry watched Malfoy smugly at dinner. That morning he had discomfited Malfoy so much that he hadn't even insulted Harry in potions. Harry's potion had actually come out almost proper, earning him a grudging E for the day.

Malfoy was playing with his food. From many years of glaring across the room at the blond boy, Harry knew well that 1) he was on a diet and 2) he always ate every speck of what was on his plate. That was not the case today.

Harry wasn't eating much either. His appetite lately had been low, and it was no different now. He leaned his chin on his hand and watched Malfoy absently, his eyes half-closed, his mind wandering.

"Harry, mate, are you listening?" Ran said through a mouthful of food.

"Sorry, I was just... What were you saying?" Harry's attention turned to Ron.

"I was saying that that girl is seriously screwy. I mean, she just thinks she can..." Harry stopped listening again and turned back to the Slytherin table. He noticed his eyes traveling across the curve of Malfoy's lips, the prim locks of hair, the delicate way he held his fork. To Harry's shock, his thoughts strayed to what that blonde hair might look like down, those light tresses framing Malfoy's eyes, what those lips might feel like on his skin, what—

Harry leapt to his feet, eyes wide. Completely ignoring Ron's inquiries, he practically sprinted from the Great Hall, not stopping until he was in the library. Once there, he yanked a random book off the shelf and immersed himself in it for a few hours.

Finally, he got the courage to stop jamming information about Vlagdok the Pink into his brain and to deal with the thoughts he was having earlier.

He had found himself being attracted to... Malfoy, of all people, his sworn enemy.

"Ok," Harry whispered to himself. "It's no big deal. Malfoy is... attractive, I suppose." One thing Harry didn't worry about was the fact that Malfoy was male; Harry had known for a while that he could swing either way. "His hair is nice. A nice color. Girly hands. Pink lips. And those eyes, stormy grey pits of doom..." Harry paused. "Oh, good god, he's turned me into a poet."

Harry left the library, shoving his hands into his pockets and trudging. It was just his luck that he would see none other than Malfoy near a flight of stairs he had to take.

"Potter," Malfoy said, eyes narrowing. Oh, god, what if he had heard Harry talking to himself in the library? What if he could do Legilimency? What if he— "Potter, are you having a fit or something?"

Harry wiped drool from his mouth and brought his eyes back into focus. "No." His mind whirled. He couldn't think of any insults to throw out. Sick fear that Malfoy knew Harry thought him attractive gnawed at Harry's stomach.

Malfoy stared at him, saying nothing. His eyes, Harry noticed, were wide. His lips were slightly parted, his hands limp at his sides.

"Malfoy," Harry said. "You seem odd as well."

"You're the only one that's odd here, Potter," Malfoy said, but the insult was half-hearted. "What are you—Stay away!" Harry hadn't noticed himself stepping closer. Malfoy's wide-eyed look of what might have been fear, or maybe apprehension, endeared him to Harry more. Harry sighed as he backed the other boy up further still.

Malfoy's back hit a wall. "Potter, what in the name of all that is holy do you think you are—" Malfoy stopped speaking when Harry's hands pressed against the wall on either side of him.

Harry noticed trivial things right then. Malfoy was about an inch taller than himself, but more slender. The top button of his shirt was undone to reveal wispy little blonde hairs. He smelled of some fragrance Harry couldn't identify. Harry felt a stirring in his stomach, and something growing in his pants, to his shock and embarrassment.

"Hey!" Their silence was broken by a voice they both knew well. "Potter, ten points from Gryffindor for accosting my student!" Snape, the old bat, strode down the corridor. "I've been looking all over for you, Draco," he said. "I need to speak to you about your latest essay. Potter, go back to your common room." Harry obeyed, drawing his robes around him to hide the tell-tale bulge in his trousers.

-----------

The error in his essay was easily fixable, and once Draco had done so, he returned to the Slytherin common room. Finding it a little boisterous for his spirits, he walked up the stairs to the dormitory. He meticulously undressed, folding his robes neatly, and lay down on his bed in his shorts, drawing the dark green velvet curtains around him.

He propped himself up on pillows and admired himself. Draco loved his own body. His thighs were taut, his chest and stomach flat. He let his fingers roam over himself as he felt his arousal heightening.

Suddenly, he stopped. A flash of green eyes, a sincere smile, a hard chest close to his own. Heat radiating from another.

He was thinking of Potter.

He immediately got up, went into the bathroom, and dunked his head in ice cold water. That calmed him down and he returned to his bed. Drops slid off of his hair, slick with the potion he used to keep it neat.

It was no big deal. Potter, as everyone well knew, was hot. His hair was a little too messy, his clothes were horrible, but his body was tight and hard from years of Quidditch. His eyes were beautiful. Draco had always envied Potter his eyes; his own were but pools of colorless nothingness.

Just thinking of Potter had gotten him excited again. He didn't even try to get rid of it this time, simply solved the problem in the easiest way and went to sleep, trying not to think about it.

Draco awoke and wondered why he felt so happy. Then he remembered that it was Saturday. No classes and no studying. He made it a point not to study on Saturdays, when there were so many better things he could be doing with his time.

He lazed about in bed for an hour and then dressed and lazed about in the common room for an hour. It was then that he decided to go out for a walk. Crabbe and Goyle were still asleep, so Draco went alone.

He sighed in happiness as he left the Entrance Hall. The sun was shining, the lake was beautiful, the smell of the forest trees drifted over to him, fragrant and enticing. Despite his reputation for being ruthless and cold, it was his idea of a perfect day. He strolled around the lake casually, stopping now and again to watch as first and second years fed leftover breakfast foods to the giant squid. He would have stopped them, just to be mean, but he was simply too lazy.

"Malfoy," said a voice behind him. He spun about.

"Are you following me, Potter?" he asked, sneering. He had been seeing rather a lot of the boy lately. He pushed memories of the night before firmly from his mind.

"No," said Potter simply. He stared at Draco. Draco stared back. This continued for some time until Potter blinked and looked away.

"I win," Draco said smugly before he remembered who he was talking to.

"Congratulations," Potter said. He turned his head away further still, but not before Draco caught sight of that smile.

"Potter, what is _with_ you lately?" he suddenly snapped. "You haven't insulted me in days, you're not speaking to your friends, and then you go and pull that little back-Draco-against-the-wall stunt yesterday. What the bloody hell?"

Potter stepped closer, a smile playing about his lips. "You seem to notice an awful lot about me, Dragon—I mean, Malfoy." He watched, smiling, as Draco's cheeks tinged pink with anger. Draco yanked his wand from his sleeve and pointed it at Potter.

"Say it again," he challenged in a hiss.

"What are you going to do?" Harry said. He came closer. "Avada Kedavra, perhaps? The Cruciatus Curse? You couldn't do it to Dumbledore, and you won't do it to me." He was close enough now to touch Draco, and he did. He put a hand on Draco's wrist and pushed his arm down. "When are you going to stop hating me, Malfoy? We're on the same side now."

Draco's slim hands shook in anger. "I—I—" He pulled his hand away to tuck his wand into its customary sleeve, buying time to think. "I hate what you did to my family, you buggering Muggle lover. But I—I don't hate _you._" Draco felt a jolt as if he had been struck by lightning, because he knew the words had been true.

Potter stood there, stunned. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but said nothing.

"Don't think this means anything," Draco hissed, trying to go back to the self he knew. "Nothing will change, Potter."

"On the contrary," Potter said, finally meeting Draco's eye. "Hearing that from you is like hearing confessions of undying love from anyone else. Perhaps, since, you've admitted your non-hatred of me, we could be... less than enemies."

"Are you offering me friendship?" Draco said. "You—You—"

"Actually, I'm not. I'm offering you... Well, let's just say it's not friendship. Anyway, I have to go." He walked around Draco and strode towards the castle.

"Potter!" The other boy turned about. "Alright. Less than enemies. But not friends."

-----------

Harry wondered, as he walked back towards the Gryffindor common room, what had possessed him to offer a less-than-enemyship to Malfoy. His odd thoughts lately, perhaps? Or was it something else, something unidentifiable?

He thought that maybe it had something to do with the fact that, when he had been so close to Malfoy just now, he had wanted to touch him more, feel that pale skin, bury his fingers in the blonde hair. Harry had a good idea of what was going on, but it didn't make any sense. After almost seven years of being rivals, enemies, how could he just up and become attracted to Malfoy? It made no sense.

That night after curfew, Harry decided to go down to the kitchens for a snack. Dobby would be there, and he had found a couple of pairs of socks he could mix up and give to the elf. Socks in hand, he put on his Invisibility Cloak and tiptoed to the kitchens.

Dobby greeted him as soon as he walked in and cried over the socks. Harry asked for something to eat; he hadn't had a big dinner. He sat down at one of the tables and looked around. Elves were everywhere, but, oddly enough, there was a student there, as well. A certain blonde Slytherin.

Harry got up and walked over to join Malfoy. Malfoy said, "What are you doing here, Potter?"

Harry ignored the question. "Since we're not enemies anymore, I was thinking... Maybe we should get on a first-name basis."

"Maybe we should _not_," Malfoy snapped, taking a bite of pudding. Harry scooted closer surreptitiously.

"Hi. My name is Harry," he said.

Malfoy stared at him. "...Draco," he said grudgingly.

"May I call you—"

"No!"

"Alright." Silence fell and then the elves brought Harry a plate. He was too busy eating after that to speak. Draco has finished his snack, but Harry noticed that he waited until Harry had finished before standing up and saying, "This has been, ah, interesting, to say the least, but I have pressing business to attend to."

"I'll walk you to your common room," Harry offered. Why, he asked himself, why are you trying so hard? So he's hot. Big deal. There are plenty of hot Gryffindors. Chase after one of them.

But at that moment he couldn't think of one Gryffindor who looked better than Draco.

"Like I'd take you right to the entrance of my common room," Draco sneered. "Though if I don't you'll probably follow me under that cloak." He nodded to Harry's invisibility cloak. "I'll walk you to your common room." He stalked out of the kitchens.

Harry followed, his heart beating quickly. They took a secret back passage up the stairs. Light filtered in the windows from the full moon, and Harry kept catching random light glimpse of Draco.

"Draco," he said. "Wait."

"What?" Draco stopped, turning around. He had stopped in one of those patches of light.

"You have pudding on your..." Harry trailed off, reaching out to remove the offending pudding from Draco's lip. He changed his mind halfway and boldly leaned forward, licking it off instead.

He pulled back and Draco was staring at him in shock. "Something wrong?" Harry asked calmly. A faint blush belied his composedness, though. Draco gurgled softly, lost for words.

"You—You—your—"

"It's called a tongue," Harry said, not hiding his smile.

"You—My—You're a complete—"

"Sex god?" Harry offered hopefully. Draco looked as if he were going to faint. "Would you like me to do it again?" Harry asked, moving closer. Draco shook his head no. Harry ignored him, taking the taller boy by the shoulders.

He kissed him, feeling a tingle of excitement race from his lips to his arms and back. Draco didn't move, just stood there, but he didn't pull away, either. Harry was rather enjoying himself when Draco put a hand on his chest and pushed him away.

"Now—is—not—the—time," he managed to work out. "Go away, you... you... Go away."

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Harry asked hopefully.

"No," Draco said. He walked away, and Harry sighed as he walked back to the common room.

**A/N: I'm bad at building up suspense, I know. Next chapter: Will Draco avoid Harry? Will Remus find his true love? Will Ron and Hermione get over themselves and ask Harry about himself for once? Oooh, drama. **

**Also, when I start a story, I might update once a day or more than once a day, but if I don't get reviews I won't update at all. **


	3. Lucius

**A/N: I'm writing like a crazy person, so here's another chapter for today. I shall restrain myself from posting three in one day. I like this chapter because it's kind of angsty. Ron and Hermione are still meanies. No Remus; I didn't have a chance to put him in, but he'll be in the next chapter. So read on.**

**Lucius**

Harry's mood was growing progressively worse. He was trying to study in the library. Hermione sat on one side and Ron sat on the other, and they _insisted_ on bickering over his bowed head. He tried to ignore them, tried to tell them off, to no avail. Finally he got fed up.

"Would you guys shut it?" he snapped. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Ron. "Silencio." He cast the same spell on Hermione, who immediately dispelled it from herself using a non-verbal spell.

"Thanks Harry," she said. "Now maybe he'll listen for once instead of—" She was interrupted by Harry slamming his book shut. Without a word, he stormed out of the library and back to the Gryffindor common room.

The common room, thankfully, was quiet due to it being Sunday and younger students taking the time to enjoy the sunshine or do studying of their own. He sat down at an empty table near the window and studied.

By the time his eyes were burning from reading so much, darkness was falling. He decided that he'd had enough for the day. Going up to the dormitory, he ignored the sounds of Dean and Seamus talking and put his books away, climbing into bed.

"Goin' to bed already, Harry?" Seamus said amiably. Harry mumbled something and waved before shutting his curtains.

He wasn't tired, so he drew his legs up, resting his chin on his knees, until the other boys went down to the common room. Only then did he sigh and let the memories flood in.

He remembered every single person he had ever Avada Kedavra'ed. The very first, one that stuck particularly in his mind, had been a girl, not much older than him, one he remembered as a seventh year when he was in his fourth year. She had left school to become a Healer and been Imperiused. She had tried to kill him to stop him from getting Voldemort, and he had killed her.

He had gone on to kill others like her, and others that were truly on Voldemort's side. He, though Draco didn't know it, had actually been the one to murder Lucius Malfoy just before his battle with Voldemort himself. It was that murder, more than any other, for which Harry felt the most remorse. Lucius, begging, Lucius, asking him to tell Draco he loved him. Lucius, wandless and broken, asking for forgiveness with more sincerity than he'd had his whole life.

Harry had forgiven him. Then he had killed him.

The memories got to be too much after a while and Harry lay down, put a pillow over his head, and cried himself to sleep. He dreamed of bottomless storm cloud eyes.

-----------

Draco was still in shock from the kiss. He had walked away from Harry Saturday night numb, but on Sunday, he composed himself. Like he had told Harry, no, he would _not_ be seeing him that day, because Draco was studying for NEWTS. He studied doubly hard Sundays due to his policy of no-study-Saturdays, so he was cloistered in the library all day in a secluded corner.

Draco couldn't concentrate, though. He kept remembered Harry, his lips, his hands. He had held Draco so hard that he'd had red fingerprints on his pale skin for an hour afterwards. Not that the whole affair was entirely unpleasant. Draco rather liked Harry's soft kiss more than the sloppy gross ones Pansy tried to give him. And she wondered why he had broken up with her after the war.

He got a bit of studying done, and by that time, he realized it was nighttime. He yawned and gathered up his things to go back to his bed for sleep.

Monday morning found him readying for class alone. Crabbe and Goyle had been avoiding him lately. He vaguely wondered why before heading straight for Potions; he'd slept through breakfast.

"You're late Mister Malfoy," Professor Snape said as he walked in. "Take your seat." A week ago, Draco would have smirked at the Gryffindors had this happened, but today he just took his seat. Snape began explaining the potion they were to brew that day, and Draco listened raptly, purposefully not looking at the table where Harry sat with his friends.

Snape finally bid them to take out their cauldrons and begin. Draco did; they had to wait for water to boil before starting, so Draco glanced around once at Harry. His eyes were red rimmed, his shoulders slumped. He looked tired and sad. Draco felt a twinge of remorse. Had Harry thought that Draco didn't want to see him again? He was carefully avoiding turning towards Draco.

Draco thought about what he was thinking and became disgusted with himself. He was thinking like a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff. Emotion was for the weak.

Angry that he had come in second at Potions _again_, Draco stomped off to the library to study. It was just his luck that Harry had ditched his friends and gone there as well.

"Join me at a table?" he asked Draco. Draco said nothing, but grumpily found a table and didn't object when Harry sat down across from him.

"I didn't mean I didn't _want_ to see you on Sunday," Draco blurted out scowlingly. "I meant I had to study all day and I wouldn't be able to."

"Oh," said Harry, not looking at him. "I'm glad to hear it. Do you know why Snape said to use two measures of powdered unicorn horn instead of one, like the book says?" He frowned down at his book.

"Because two stabilizes it better," Draco said. "Surely you understood? He said that the unicorn horn neutralizes the—"

"Ok, wait. I understand now. Thank you."

"You're welcome." The conversation lapsed into silence. Draco shook his head irritably when he realized that he and Harry were having a conversation without any insults or fighting thrown in. It seemed wrong, somehow. "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Muggle lover." Draco didn't look up, but he knew Harry was looking at him.

"Filthy snake." Draco _did_ glance up then, to see Harry smiling. Draco was glad he understood.

-----------

Harry felt odd. He was ecstatic that he and Draco had had a study session—had actually studied together, helping each other, sharing notes—without any real fighting. But at the same time he felt a great knot of guilt in his gut, for if things kept going the way they were, he would be staring into those cold grey eyes more and more, and that reminded him of Lucius. Everything about Draco reminded him of Lucius, his hair, his eyes, his girly hands.

But Harry wanted to see Draco again, needed it. He wondered what it would feel like to get a hug from him. He wondered what it would feel like to lie next to him, sleeping, and if Draco looked any less fierce while asleep.

He skipped dinner and went straight to the common room. There was no one there, so he got the best armchair and an hour of peaceful brooding. Then everyone started returning.

Hermione and Ron entered and Ron said, "Harry, we didn't see you at dinner. How 'bout a game of chess?"

"No thank you, Ron," he said quietly.

"I could help you with that question you had this morning in Potions," Hermione offered.

"I already got help," Harry said, sitting up straight and looking at them for the first time. They exchanged a glance.

"Who from?" she asked huffily.

"None of your business," he muttered. He didn't much feel like being around his friends just now. He levered himself up and walked up the stairs.

"What is with him lately?" he heard Ron ask.

Harry spent another night thinking of Draco and Lucius. He didn't cry tonight, but he did look at pictures of his parents longingly before going to sleep.

Classes the next day were typical: boring. He escaped afterwards, getting his broom and going to the Quidditch pitch. He began flying laps, and in the middle of his ninth lap, he noticed the Ravenclaw team coming onto the field.

"Time's up," he muttered to himself irritably. He swooped down and landed on the other end of the field, slinging his broom over his shoulder. Just as he was leaving the pitch, a familiar voice called to him.

"Harry." Harry turned around to see Draco in the shadows beside the changing rooms. He walked over, heart pounding.

"Hey, Draco."

"Would you like me to walk you back up to the castle?" Draco was looking Harry up and down.

"I thought maybe I'd go for a walk around the lake first," Harry told him. "You could join me." Draco nodded and they set off.

They were halfway around the lake before Draco spoke. "Why are you so sad?"

Harry was silent, contemplating his answer, and then he sat down abruptly, facing the lake, crossing his ankles in front of him; his broom he dropped beside him. Draco joined him and they watched as the sun went down over the lake.

"I never wanted to kill anyone," Harry said finally. "I murdered a bunch of innocent people, Draco. No one seems to realize that I—it wasn't fair."

Draco inched closer. "What wasn't fair?"

"That I alone was asked to kill Voldemort, and, in doing so, become a murderer." Harry put his head in his hands, unwilling to let Draco see the tears that stung them. Draco didn't need to see to know what to do. Very slowly and tentatively, he put his arms around Harry, pulling him close in a hug. Harry leaned automatically into his chest and let his tears flow silently.

They sat like that for a long while until Draco suddenly pulled away and sneezed. "Bless you," Harry said. "Are you sick?"

"No," Draco muttered. "Your crazy hair tickled my nose." Harry laughed at that, reaching up automatically to flatten his hair. It didn't work.

"Your hair is always so neat and perfect," Harry said. "What does it look like before you comb it?"

"Like yours except blonde and a little longer," he said. "It kind of... curls up at the ends and frames just my eyes. That's how long it is."

"I'd like to see that," Harry said. He pushed himself to his feet and picked up his broom. When he turned around, Draco was standing right in front of him. Without a word, he bent his head slightly and kissed Harry's lips. Harry's arms went around his neck; Draco buried one hand in his dark hair while the other rested at his waist lightly. The kiss was long and sweet, leaving them both breathless and embarrassed at the end.

"Shall we go up to the castle, then?" Harry asked.

**A/N: Next chapter will be up soon. Aren't the boys just lovely together?**


	4. Forgiveness

**A/N: Harry tells Draco his secret... Draco gets mad. Silent treatment ensues, and there's a surprise at the end... Hehe. Thanks to reviewers.**

**Forgiveness**

Thick, disgusting, ugly, wretched guilt settled deep in Harry's bones. Days had passed. Meetings with Draco had passed. Harry was in an established relationship with the boy, but guilt ripped at him, chewed him up, spit him back out, every moment of every day, for he still hadn't seen fit to inform Draco that he was the one who had murdered Lucius.

Harry needed someone to talk to, an adult, someone who knew about this sort of thing... Sirius was dead, Dumbledore was dead, his parents were dead... that left Snape or Remus.

Remus was in his office grading papers when Harry knocked at his open door on Friday night. He looked up and smiled. "Harry, come in, please. Would you like tea?"

"Yes, please," Harry said. He nervously took a seat in front of Remus' desk as Remus conjured up tea. He poured two cups of it and handed one to Harry, who didn't drink.

"Is there something you wanted to talk about?" Remus asked gently after a moment.

"Actually, could you close the door?" Harry muttered. With a wave of his wand, Remus closed the door and looked expectantly at Harry. "It's about... Draco Malfoy."

"Did you hear him say something?" Remus asked sharply. "Did he try to attack you?"

"No, no, no!" Harry said. "I—I've been... Well, I've been seeing him..." Harry grimaced inwardly at the look of shock on Remus' face. "Yeah. Except, he doesn't know that I was the one..."

"He doesn't know that it was you that killed his father?" Remus said. Harry flinched at his words.

"Yes. But I... I'm afraid if I tell him then he will hate me. Draco has been the only one who understands... I mean, he listens to me. He is very... comforting." Harry knew his face was bright red with these admissions.

"It seems to me that in a relationship, especially one such as yours, honesty is the best policy."

Harry stared at him for a moment before laughing. "I can't believe you just said that," he said.

"Yes, well, it is a bit clichéd, isn't it? But the point I'm trying to make is, if you don't tell him, he will probably find out one day and then where will you be? If he feels strongly enough for you, he will forgive past mistakes and focus on the present, so long as you tell him soon." Remus fiddled with his teacup. "I had this boyfriend once who lied to me for months about shutting up my pet fwooper in the oven. He said Warbles had gotten himself caught, but... He had really done it. I left him simply because he didn't tell me the truth sooner. You see?"

"You're gay?" Harry asked. "And you had a pet fwooper named Warbles?"

"Nothing wrong with either of those things, Harry," Remus said calmly. "Is there anything else you need?"

"No. Thank you very much, Remy." Harry stood, leaving with a chuckle as Remus repeated loudly, "Remy?!"

-----------

It was never a good sign when one's boyfriend asked to meet in the library. No snogging could be done in the library due to that batty old librarian prowling rows. The only thing the library was good for was studying or talking about serious things, and Draco knew Harry didn't want to study. He strolled down the hallway towards the library calmly, though, despite his nervousness.

Harry was already there, fiddling with a quill at one of the tables in the back. Draco surprised him by wrapping his arms around him from behind and kissing his neck softly. Harry squeaked, and Draco sat down with a smirk.

"Gotcha," he said. Harry nodded. He said nothing else though, and didn't meet Draco's eyes. "Harry," Draco said, eyes softening. "What is wrong?"

"Kiss me," Harry whispered. Draco obeyed, puzzled, kissing him softly, and then pulled back.

"Why--?"

"Because I'm pretty sure it's the last kiss I'll ever get from you," Harry said. "There's something I have to tell you."

"Anything, love," Draco said. He placed his pale hand over Harry's, rubbing Harry's knuckles with a thumb.

"I... I was the one who killed your father. I killed him, and he asked me to tell you that he loved you and I never did, so now I'm telling you. He said, 'please ask Draco to forgive me'. Then he asked for my forgiveness. I forgave him, then I killed him. I never told you because you would hate me more. I'm so sorry, Draco."

Draco was staring at a point over Harry's shoulder, mouth slightly open, his fingers still now. His grey gaze was sharp, but he said nothing, didn't move, didn't blink, for long moments. Then his eyes refocused on Harry's. "You... killed my father." Harry met his eye unblinkingly; he would not look away from his shame.

"I'm not asking for forgiveness," he said. "I just—"

"You killed my father... and he was begging?" Harry nodded slowly. "You killed my begging father and you didn't give his last message to me." Draco finally pulled his hand away and stood up. "Harry... Just stay away from me." He began to walk away.

"Draco, please," Harry whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry won't bring back my family," he said calmly. "How many of my relatives, my father's friends, did you kill? Give me time to think this over, Harry. Goodbye."

-----------

Harry found refuge in his bed. He tried to think of the positives. Draco hadn't reverted to calling him by his surname. That was a good thing. He had said to give him time, which meant that once time had passed, they might have another chance together.

Harry shouldn't have told him. How could he ever have found out? The guilt had only been emboldened by the pain of Draco leaving him. The roaring monster was awake in his chest again, and it was going insane, tearing at Harry's heart, ripping him open and salting the wounds. Harry felt physically sick, and the sobs would no longer come from his raw throat.

He had to see Draco again. How could he give up so easily? He—He _loved_ Draco, and was only just admitting it to himself. He was in love with the boy and he wouldn't give up so easily.

"I'll tell him I love him," he whispered to himself. "I'll spend the rest of my life fixing this." That decided, he got out of bed and left.

It wasn't all that late. Students and teachers still roamed the corridors. The sun was just dying outside, and Harry was reminded strongly of the night he had first kissed Draco; the lighting was the same.

Draco wasn't in the library or the Room of Requirement. He wasn't near the lake or at the Quidditch pitch. Harry could only assume he was cloistered in his dorm. So Harry went to the entrance of the Slytherin common room and sat.

Slytherins jeered at him and shot him suspicious looks and even small curses as they went in and out. Harry used the shield charm and waited.

It was the middle of the night before Draco came out. He stopped upon seeing Harry; his eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped.

"Draco, please, wait—" Harry got up, but fell over as soon as he did; his legs had fallen asleep. Draco reached down and hauled him up by the robes, steadying him until he could walk. Then Draco startled Harry by rearing back and punching Harry with all his might.

"OW!" Harry said, rubbing his jaw. "I think you broke my jaw!"

"If I had you wouldn't be able to talk," Draco pointed out.

"Since when do you fight like a Muggle?" Harry asked.

"Since I met you," grumbled Draco. He began to walk away. Harry followed. It was in the middle of the darkened entrance hall where Draco turned around and said, "Stop following me."

"Draco, I need to tell you something," Harry said.

"Fine. Then go away."

"Ok. I—I love you. I'm in love with you." Harry didn't meet Draco's eye.

Suddenly Draco moved forward. He lifted Harry chin with a hand so their eyes met. "Really?" he asked softly. Harry nodded. "Well... I'm in love with you, too, Harry." He kissed Harry deeply, his mouth lingering, and then stopped.

"Draco..." Harry traced a hand along Draco's jutting cheekbone, his face full of love.

"I forgive you, Harry." And then Draco pulled out his wand, pointed it at Harry's heart and whispered "Avada Kedavra." Harry fell, the look on his face unchanging, forever in love.

Draco stared at Harry's body for a while before kneeling. He kissed Harry's wild-haired head one last time and then turned his wand on himself and whispered the incantation one more time.

In a flash of green, Draco Malfoy was dead and forever with his enemy, his lover, his Harry.

**A/N: This is the end. I know, it's short, but I just felt like I needed to end it here. Had it gone on, I doubt I would've finished it. Anyway, review, tell me what you think. Read my other stories (not Origins or So Right... They're dead.) Yup. It feels weird actually finishing a fic. I'm gonna go now... **


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